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Be patient with all that is uncertain in your heart...do not search for answers, which will not be given: you will not be able to live them, and its importat to live everything.

Rainer Maria Rilke

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Rainer Maria Rilke
Age: 51 †
Born: 1875
Born: December 4
Died: 1926
Died: December 29
Author
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Writer
Praha
René Karl Wilhelm Johann Josef Maria Rilke
René Maria Cäsar Rilke
Rainer Karl Wilhelm Johann Josef Maria Rilke
Li-erh-kʻo
Rainer Maria Rielke
René Rilke
Rainer Mariyah Rilḳeh
Rainŏ Maria Rilkʻe
Reiner Marie Rilke
Rene Karl Wilhelm Johann Josef Maria Rilke
Rene Rilke
Patient
Answers
Given
Able
Live
Everything
Heart
Uncertain
Life
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More quotes by Rainer Maria Rilke

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Comfort me from wherever you are–alone, we are quickly worn out if I place my head on the road, let it seem softened by you. Could it be that even from afar we offer each other a gentle breath?
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The work of the eyes is done. Go now and do the heart-work on the images imprisoned within you.
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Life and death: they are one, at core entwined. Who understands himself from his own strain presses himself into a drop of wine and throws himself into the purest flame.
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Wanting to change, to improve, a person's situation means offering him, for difficulties in which he is practiced and experienced, other difficulties that will find him perhaps even more bewildered.
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We make our way through Everything like thread passing through fabric, giving shape to images that we ourselves do not know.
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What is necessary, after all, is only this: solitude, vast inner solitude. To walk inside yourself and meet no one for hours-that is what you must be able to attain. To be solitary as you were when you were a child.
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I beg you, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language.
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Harshness vanished. A sudden softness has replaced the meadows' wintry grey. Little rivulets of water changed their singing accents. Tendernesses, hesitantly, reach toward the earth from space, and country lanes are showing these unexpected subtle risings that find expression in the empty trees.
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I think of you often, dear, and with such concentrated wishes that it really must help you in some way.
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You have had many sadnesses, large ones, which passed. ... But please, ask yourself whether these large sadnesses haven't rather gone right through you [that is, passed through you]. Perhaps many things inside you have been transformed perhaps somewhere, someplace deep inside your being, you have undergone important changes while you were sad.
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Dig deep into your heart, where the answer spreads its roots in your being, and ask yourself solemnly, Must I write?
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I want to unfold. Let no place in me hold itself closed, for where I am closed, I am false.
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I believe that nothing that is real can pass away.
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Be ahead of all farewells as if they were behind you, like the winter that is just departing.
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Our deepest fears are like dragons, guarding our deepest treasure.
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Do not be bewildered by the surfaces: in the depths all becomes law.
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Dying is strange and hard if it is not our death, but a death that takes us by storm, when we've ripened none within us.
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Is not impermanence the very fragrance of our days?
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Look: the trees exist the houses we dwell in stand there stalwartly. Only we pass by it all, like a rush of air. And everything conspires to keep quiet about us, half out of shame perhaps, half out of some secret hope.
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There are moments in which a rose is more important than a piece of bread
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